


Lacrimosa

by Dreadful Weather Today (TearoomSaloon)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Biblical References, Dark, Death, F/M, Hurt, Poisoning, but no comfort, obvi, the whole nine yards really, you better cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1435168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearoomSaloon/pseuds/Dreadful%20Weather%20Today
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even God sacrificed lambs. Even God regretted His path.</p><p>Every death was precious, just as every life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacrimosa

**Author's Note:**

> Jade's an ass and wants me to cry. Prompt: Hannibal has to kill Alana, maybe she discovers his secret, maybe she threatens to tell on him, but under some circumstances, he has to kill her. Write how this scene would proceed.
> 
> This is probably the most in-character I've written Hannibal.

 

            Even shepherds sacrificed lambs to God. They ran the life of that which they must protect to serve a greater purpose. They lived off their animals, grew fond of their animals, but sometimes had to give thanks with their animals.

            Even God sacrificed lambs.

            Mary, Mother of Jesus, was not a lamb. Mary, Mother of Jesus, was a saint. She would not go so lowly to her son, would not ascend in vain or shame. She was pure, she was holy, and she was free of Original Sin. She would be taken, body and spirit, to heaven.

            In that way, he had failed his Mary.

            She knew too much. She had learned too much and he could no longer protect her. The lamb had strayed and now he had to make a sacrifice. He wouldn’t let them cage her. He wouldn’t let them cage him. She had to ascend.

            “It’ll be as painless as I can make it,” he told her, smoothing her hair over her back. He would cloak her in fine robes when she passed, blues and whites, with a crown of golden leaves for her head. She was so beautiful; her red mouth, her pale cheeks, her blue eyes. So beautiful, he reminded himself as he fixed her last supper.

            He slipped her belladonna, in both the meat and wine. She knew. Almost immediately she knew, but she did nothing, said nothing. She carried on the conversation of a woman free from the chains of the grave. She was dignified.

            Belladonna: beautiful lady.

            Her pupils dilated first, then she crashed to the floor.

            He knew it was coming, but it didn’t change his reaction, the muffled cry, the knocking over of the glasses, the clanging of the silverware. He held her there on the floor, her head in his lap. God cursed the world, cursed the plight of the world. Cursed the world that prematurely robbed a masterpiece of her final breaths.

            “I knew,” she said slowly. “I knew weeks ago. I wasn’t going to tell.”

            “It’s not that you would tell.” His voice was soft, fingers tracing the tear tracks down her cheeks. “It’s that they’d take you when they take me, they’d ruin you. You’d be wasted. I can’t let you be wasted, it would be sacrilegious.”

            “I’m not special enough for that.”

            “Alana, my dear, you are the greatest masterpiece to fall at my feet, and I will honor you in death more any other man.”

            She nodded weakly, her senses running from her fingers.

            “And I love you.”

            “Like a painting,” she whispered with a laugh.

            “Like a woman.”

            He kissed her forehead, brushing back her tangled hair. He kissed her chin, cradling her neck. He kissed her cheeks, holding her hand. He blessed her. He kissed her. He kissed her, he kissed her.

            “I love you. Even after I found you out, I still loved you.”

            “I manipulated you into it.”

            “No.” Her voice was a thin stream now, the delirium setting in. “It would take all of heaven and earth to convince me to love something so monstrous, if it were not the monster himself. I loved that monster more than you know.”

            _More than he’d ever know_ , his thoughts reminded him.

            Who could love the devil but a saint?

            He sat with her there until the life trickled from her body, until her heart slowed and stopped. He held her, the husk of her, until her body was cold as iron. Part of him wanted them to find her there, her head in his lap, his head against hers. He took away the most precious sculpture, the most wondrous painting. _He_ did this. He _needed_ to do this. Her death was unjust.

            He was gentle as he fixed her to the altar, the cloaks billowing and her face beautiful, glowing like a star. He wanted them to know how much she’d meant, how difficult it could be for the shepherd to sacrifice a lamb. He exalted her, the queen of his heaven.

            Ave Maria, Dominus vobiscum.

**Author's Note:**

> Lacrimosa dies illa  
> Qua resurget ex favilla  
> Judicandus homo reus.  
> Huic ergo parce, Deus:  
> Pie Jesu Domine,  
> Dona eis requiem. Amen.


End file.
